the beauties of my
sweetheart. This sight inflamed me. I shut the door, and made the little
hussy witness of my ardour with my sweetheart. Sara looked on
attentively, playing the part of astonishment to perfection, and when I
had finished she said, with the utmost simplicity,

"Do it again:"

"I can't, my dear; don't you see I am a dead man?"

"That's very funny," she cried; and with the most perfect innocence she
came over, and tried to effect my resurrection.

When she had succeeded in placing me in the wished-for condition, she
said, "Now go in;" and I should doubtless have obeyed, but my housekeeper
said, "No, dearest, since you have effected its resurrection, you must
make it die again."

"I should like to," said she, "but I am afraid I have not got enough
room;" and so saying she placed herself in a position to shew me that she
was speaking the truth, and that if she did not make me die it was not
her fault.

Imitating her simplicity I approached her, as if I wished to oblige her,
but not to go too far; but not finding any resistance I accomplished the
act in all its forms, without her giving the slightest evidence of pain,
without any of the accidents of a first trial, but, on the contrary, with
all the marks of the utmost enjoyment.

Although I was sure of the contrary, I kept my self-possession enough to
tell my housekeeper that Sara had given me what can only be given once,
and she pretended to believe me.

When the operation was finished, we had another amusing scene. Sara
begged us not to say a word about it to her papa or mamma, as they would
be sure to scold her as they had scolded her when she got her ears
pierced without asking their leave.

Sara knew that we saw through her feigned simplicity, but she pretended
not to do so as it was to her own advantage. Who could have instructed
her in the arts of deceit? Nobody; only her natural wit, less rare in
childhood than in youth, but always rare and astonishing. Her mother said
her simplicities shewed that she would one day be very intelligent, and
her father maintained that they were signs of her stupidity. But if Sara
had been stupid, our bursts of laughter would have disconcerted her; and
she would have died for shame, instead of appearing all the better
pleased when her father deplored her stupidity. She would affect
astonishment, and by way of curing one sort of stupidity she corroborated
it by displaying another. She asked us questions to wh